For Show
by KateToast
Summary: I've always been good with an audience. During the pre-Quarter Quell interviews, Peeta POV.


**A/N: **First attempt at The Hunger Games. I just recently discovered the series and gobbled up the books (and then reread them immediately!). Loved the story, the themes, the characters... everything, really. Suzanne Collins left us so much room to play in, which I am thankful for. Hopefully this will not be my last foray into this great creation.

The following takes place during _Catching Fire_.

**XXX**

I can see the devastation and pity in Caesar Flickerman's lavender-tinted eyes as he consoles me over my new marriage, cut so tragically short. Of course, he and the entirety of Panem are upset over something that isn't an actuality, since there was no marriage (and no true engagement, and no real relationship at all, which makes me feel heartsick—), but I play it up.

I've always been good with an audience.

I don't dare look anywhere but Caesar's face, or the arm of my chair, or the floor – really any place but the screens, which I know are cutting back and forth between my explosive, sham interview and my would-be wife's completely honest reaction from the sidelines. Completely honest, because she has no idea what I've been brewing. I think I'm even catching myself by surprise as the words spill out, though I'd been mulling on this plan before the interview.

I knew the moment President Snow had read the Quarter Quell card, effectively signing the death certificates for some of Panem's beloved celebrities, that it was about Katniss now. It had always been about Katniss for me anyway, but now there was no fuss in wondering how I factored in to her life. No worry of who she would pick – Gale, me, nobody – to spend her days with. Because it was time to let go, to push everything I had into keeping Katniss Everdeen alive, getting her home.

I know she and Haymitch talk without me. I know that they're planning something stupid, like saving me instead of her. But I won't allow it. I haven't gotten this far in life with just my words and good nature alone. And I've been in love with Katniss since the age of five. I know what I'm giving up, and I know exactly whom I'm giving it up for.

Caesar puts his arm around my shoulders in a way that is meant to be comforting, but leaves me cold. Right now I hate anything to do with the Capitol, including their entertainment spokesmen, despite our easy camaraderie in the past. I hate them, not just for their despicable Hunger Games, their endless bloodlust, but for taking away the possibilities of my future.

It was the loss of these potential paths that got me thinking. I had no idea what I was going to say during my interview, no clue what my fellow victor/tributes were planning. No guidance from Effie or Haymitch. But words have never been much of a problem for me, the way they are for Katniss. I wasn't worried about the words – I was worried about the content.

And then Katniss and I spent the day on the Training Center rooftop, eating delicious food, admiring the gardens, laughing and teasing each other like we weren't heading to our deaths. We lowered whatever block often exists between us and just _were_. Together. The only thing that could have made it perfect was if we were back in District 12, the Games behind us.

I had been playing with her dark hair, her head in my lap. I'd said I was practicing my knots, but really I was just running my fingers through the strands, wishing I had more time – multiple lifetimes, preferably, to sit and appreciate her. She was dozing peacefully, rare for her.

And I'd been struck with the beauty of the moment, one of the precious few I had left, and I'd said: _"I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever."_

And Katniss had said: _"Okay," _and, _"I'll allow it."_

What she didn't know while her eyes were closed was that my brain had gone into overdrive, and then I hadn't just thought of us, forever in this one moment, but of a full, long life made up of millions of these moments: Coming home from the bakery to her. Listening to her sing. Painting her image. Marrying her. Arguing with her. Attempting to hunt with her. Family meals. Waking up together. Making love. Dancing with our children. Smiling.

The injustice of it all made my eyes sting. I know that Katniss doesn't want that future – marriage, children – yet I can't help but think, _what if_, _what if_… But I'd pushed my considerations aside and softly shaken her awake to catch the sunset.

Since then, I'd had a better idea of what I would say during my interview with Caesar Flickerman.

I glimpse Katniss's watery smile on the screens as Caesar tries to lessen the pain of our fate by pointing out that we did have a few months together. I'm relieved to see she's playing along, because they've only heard the half of it.

"I wish we had waited until the whole thing was done officially," I tell Caesar. I'm not pretending to be worked up. The feelings behind the lies are as real as the bread I baked every day in 12.

Caesar is surprised by my comment, which I'd anticipated. "Surely even a brief time is better than no time?"

I must play this exactly right for it to have the desired effect. To have even a chance at keeping her safe from the other tributes, from the Capitol. Or at least as safe as possible. The twenty-three interviews before this have lit the match; I need to throw the flame onto the waiting coals.

"Maybe I'd think that, too, Caesar." I pause, take a breath. "If it weren't for the baby."

I'm staring hard at Caesar's chair in the silence. Then the mutters begin, growing into loud whispers until the audience crescendos into frenzy – shouting, stamping, screaming. I can hardly hear what Caesar is saying, and I'm sitting right across from him. After a moment I assume my three minutes are up, and walk back to my chair without looking at anyone.

The tears begin, the ones I've been holding in for too long. The audience is practically rioting, but I feel nothing except empty, because there is no baby, no marriage, no engagement, and really, no Peeta and Katniss. And there never will be any of those things, the things I want so badly that I would kill for them. _Have_ killed for them.

The crowd is becoming too much and the anthem is blaring. For the first time since we sat for the interviews I reach out to Katniss, needing to feel her beside me in the chaos, praying what I've done will be in her favor.

I don't know how she'll take what I've said, these heavy, irrevocable things that can't be taken back, but our hands clasp tightly.

**XXX**


End file.
